Cutting Away The Curse
by FireTigerSoul
Summary: Isn't it obvious, Miroku? We've all wondered at one point or another why he doesn't just cut his hand off. Just a bit of drama, and way too much brooding on Miroku's part. Mir/San


**Cutting Away the Curse**

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Or Miroku. Or Sango. Or Kagome. Or Shippou. Or Kouga. Or Sesshoumaru…..

_A/N: ZOMFG, I'm BACK! :O YESSAH! I'm back from Japan and ready to rawk the fiction world again! :D I'm currently working on a long fic, so keep your eyes open for it!_

It was the same question.

Each time it was only asked once, and in a different way, but the constant stream of people in his life had steadily increased over the past few years and Miroku grew weary of answering it. Every explanation brought a little stab of pain into his chest, a cold ice that would take weeks to fade away. Even his close friends hadn't resisted asking him the same question.

Kagome had asked, Inuyasha had offered, Shippou stated the solution as if it were the easiest thing in the world, and Sango…

Miroku felt his throat dry out as he stared down at the beautiful woman before him. She was gazing up at him with a mask of indifference, but he could clearly see the concern seeping out from her eyes, giving her away. She stood next to him on the path they had been traveling on, waiting patiently for an answer to her question.

"Why don't you just cut off your curse?"

'Sango, my dear Sango,' It took all of his willpower to keep his face as neutral as possible while an inner maelstrom took over his mind. 'Of all people…'

He had expected it from Kagome. She had a natural instinct for caring, and wanting to help others. It was only natural that she try to offer him some assistance with his cursed hand, painfully oblivious to the fact that it was something he had thought of many times before in his lifetime.

Miroku almost let out a short chuckle at the memory of Inuyasha cracking his knuckles and staring at his hand with glee at the thought of getting rid of the monk's source of perverted power. Inuyasha, insightful boy that he was, took every situation at face value for what it appeared to be.

Shippou…Shippou was a child. He couldn't possibly be blamed for not understanding.

But Sango…

He had expected her to understand, if no one else. He expected her to understand the responsibility, and the duty of carrying on a family tradition. As the last survivor, Sango bore the sole responsibility of avenging her village. She had made the decision to stay and fight against Naraku when she could have simply ran away and let her talents die with her.

How, after all this time, could she have not put two and two together? They were one and the same, each walking along the same unfavorable path, trying to give themselves a purpose in life, a meaning. He was also a sole survivor, and he alone bore the responsibility of avenging his family. Destroying Naraku would end the curse and cease the extinction of his family name.

Of course he could cut his hand off, it was an obvious solution to the problem. A few moments of excruciating pain, a hand getting sucked into a vortex, a few days of recovery and all would be well again.

Well, he would have to learn to grope women with only one hand, but it could be managed.

Over the years it had been suggested over and over again. At first he seriously considered this course of action, but something always seemed to hold him back. His mind would carry the flashbacks of his father's death when he was a child. Screaming himself hoarse, he cried out for his father, begging him not to leave. He was held back by Mushin, and then dragged to a safe location away from the danger. He could remember how his father had turned around at the last moment and smiled at his only son. It was a smile that was free of anger, or of fear…however…his eyes held a lifetime of regret. Regret over not killing Naraku, over not being able to see his son grow into a man, over lying to his mother in order to produce an heir, but most of all…

He could see the regret that his son would share the same fate.

Miroku swore he would never put any son of his through the same thing. He would put an end to it by destroying Naraku. Should he sense the end was near, he would only then produce an heir, and the cycle would be repeated.

Or at least, that was his plan.

After the group was formed, Miroku found himself leaning towards a certain female member of the group. Sure, he kept up the lecherous monk bit for reputation's sake, but there wasn't any drive behind it anymore.

He was having second thoughts.

He found himself wanting. Wanting to spend more time with the taijiya. He would slip in a grope here and there to loosen her out of the overly stressed situation she had found herself in. He had his whole life to prepare for losing everything, whereas she had none. He admired her strength and her resilience, but didn't want to allow himself the luxury of entertaining thoughts of a future, so he kept his options open by flirting with every woman he passed.

"Miroku?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the woman in front of him, her face now full of worry.

He gave her a small smile and pretended to look like he was gathering his thoughts for an answer.

Without thinking, he had taken her hand and held it in his own, staring down at the flesh on her palm, running a finger over the calluses that she had acquired from years of training and fighting.

Somewhere along the line between back then and now…he had decided not to have a son.

He didn't want to place that terrible burden on his offspring, no matter how much his father had wanted him to continue the family name.

He didn't want a hasty relationship with some fertile (but breathtakingly beautiful) woman just so that he could continue his line.

He wanted…

He wanted a wife. He wanted a home. He wanted children, happy children with hands that were whole and full of rough spots like their mother's. They would have lovely dark hair, and their home would be safe from all the evils in the world. They would not know suffering, or violence. They would not worry, or fear for their lives.

They would be….normal.

Miroku glanced up from the ground and gazed into Sango's eyes, keeping a firm hold on her hand as she tried to repeatedly remove it from his grasp. He wanted to tell her, to explain to her…he needed to let her know. Time was of the essence, and Miroku knew he didn't have much time left. He didn't want anyone….someone…in particular…to see that regret on his face before he left this world.

Sango stilled as he held her hand steady, and her eyes locked with his. She felt her face screw up in confusion as he gazed at her with an indescribable emotion. A thumping noise began in her chest and she realized that her treacherous face was burning a hot red colour. That emotion, was it….? It couldn't possibly be. What on earth was he….

"My lovely Sango?"

"Yes?" Sango leaned closer to better hear his quiet voice.

Miroku watched as she leaned in closer, her cheeks a lovely pink colour. She was so strong, so breathtaking, so absolutely perfect…

"Will you bear my child?"

…SMACK

Miroku calmly stepped back a step to allow her to pass him by. She glared at him as she stormed past him, sputtering angry curses under her breath. He really hadn't meant to ask her that. It just slipped out, as per usual. He sighed, taking in a long drag of air, along with Sango's lingering scent. He really must thank Kagome one of these days for bringing such wonderful bath supplies with her. He'll never be able to smell strawberries without thinking of his lovely taijiya.

"Miroku?"

Stunned, Miroku turned around and faced the taijiya in question, who was about ten feet away from him and staring at the ground.

"I ….I understand."

A slow grin formed on Miroku's face. "Oh Sango, I'm afraid you really don't."

"No," Sango's head lifted and he looked him right in the eye. Her entire demeanor had changed and there was a glimpse of complete understanding in her eye. "I really do."

Miroku blinked and cocked his head to the side, drinking in the lovely sight of full acceptance staring him right in the face. His eyes fell to the ground as something choked him in the back of his throat. No, no…it was better not to think about it. He shouldn't get his hopes up. He was going to die. Alone. There should be no wanting, no dreaming. He had to make it all go away before eighteen years of unshed tears burst from behind his eyes and he lost all sense of pride by clinging to that acceptance and shouting to the heavens that it wasn't fair.

He shook his head once…then twice. Slowly bringing his head back up, he made sure that the grin was tacked on his face. "So, was that a yes?"

Sango sighed, turning on her heel and continuing down the pathway. "Oh never mind. Forget I even asked." Her voice had dropped and the disappointment clenched at his heart.

"Sango?"

She stopped and turned her head around to look at him.

"I will not cut my curse off," he spoke slowly and firmly, his eyes boring into hers, begging her to fully understand and then quickly forget his admission. Should it linger… he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the floodgates back again. "I am not a weakling," he continued, "and I will not run and hide from my fate."

A smile crept onto Sango's face. "I know. I told you, I understand."

"No, you don't," He smiled, a genuine expression. She couldn't possibly understand the maelstrom that went on in his head everyday. She might connect with the general idea, but skipped over the particulars, as was her inclination. He didn't blame her for jumping to her conclusion, rather he loved her for it. "There's one other reason why I won't cut it off. It's far more important."

"What is it?" She felt herself frown. What was more important than keeping your honour?

Miroku, still smiling, took several steps forward and then leaned down to whisper in her ear.

A frown crossed her face again, and it was quickly followed by an expression of shock. A lovely red shade formed across her nose and she immediately leaned back and smacked him. "MIROKU!"

He laughed. "Don't ask the question unless you're prepared to hear the answer!" He laughed again and started walking towards where Inuyasha and Kagome had long since disappeared over the hill in the distance. Inuyasha would be hopping mad that they fell behind, but at the moment, he really didn't care.

That small seed of wanting sprouted in his chest.

_Whew…my writing's a bit rusty. .xx._


End file.
